Who?
by The Pepper Pot
Summary: Marcia Greene is an Anthropomorph, a witch who was born an animal but has been transfigured to human form. She discovers her unusual background before her fifth year at Hogwarts, and struggles to come to terms with her new identity. Along the way, she learns important lessons about what makes her, her, and makes new friends who understand what it's like to identify with animals.
1. Chapter 1

Marcia stared out of the window of the Hogwarts Express as the familiar countryside slipped slowly by. She frowned, and adjusted her hand on her chin, and sank deeper into her seat. She had sat this way for half an hour, had ignored the Trolley Witch when she had come by, and was likely the first one to notice the insubstantial fact that it had begun to rain outside. Marcia closed her eyes and her expression softened, though her mood did not improve. She replayed in her mind the conversation her parents had chosen to have with her over her last birthday, just before the end of summer holiday.

Her mother had taken her aside, and after an odd, quiet minute or two, her father had joined them. Her mother had taken Marcia's hand and stroked it, and Marcia wondered what new horror justified this behavior. The last time her mother had grown so odd and quiet, she'd told Marcia about becoming a woman. That was six years ago, now. This time, her mother had started, _"There's something very important your father and I need to tell you."_ And Marcia had nodded and waited for the rest. It was always so odd going through this dance. They had wanted to, she supposed, display the weight of the statement before dropping it on her all at once. Marcia wished they had just gotten on with it. Waiting hadn't, in the end, changed the news.

" _Marcia,"_ her father had continued, " _You're old enough now to understand where you came from."_ Internally, she had grimaced. It had sounded more and more like that talk six years ago. " _Your mother and I…we wanted a child very badly, but couldn't have one."_

Marcia had realized, with great relief, where this was going. She had smiled gently, to assuage her parents, to show them they didn't have to voice what they were going to say out loud. _"I see. I'm adopted. I did wonder where I got my hair."_ Both her mother and father were blondes. It was unlikely they could produce a child who looked as classically Grecian as Marcia with her dark eyes and olive skin and wavy, thick dark hair.

Her mother had nodded, seeming relieved, but the tension didn't quite disappear. This struck Marcia as odd. She had though, surely, such news was common enough that they didn't need to dwell on it. There must, she had deduced, be more coming. Her mother, almost teary eyed, squeezed Marcia's hand and said, " _Honey, you're an Anthropomorph."_ Marcia had thought hard as to whether or not she'd heard that word before, but though she may have heard the word a few times, the meaning didn't come to her. " _Do you know what that is?"_ Marcia had shaken her head and her father had continued.

" _You know what an Animagus is?"_ Marcia had nodded. _"It's very similar. The idea, at least. You see…"_ He glanced at his wife. She nodded. " _An Animagus can turn from a wizard—or a witch—to an animal which suits their character. An Anthropomorph is an animal which has been spelled to become a wizard—or in your case, a witch."_

Marcia had not, in the end, been ready for that news. At first, she hadn't believed her parents. Then, after a great deal of convincing on their part and Marcia forcing them to tell her how it had been done and from what animal she had been made—a barn owl—and general mincing of words and gnashing of teeth, they had finally left her alone in her room.

Though her parents had kept their distance for the rest of the holiday, Marcia was still grateful to have her own space and leave for Hogwarts when autumn came. Sitting here in the compartment alone was the first time she'd had any decent personal space in weeks, and she wasn't sure when she might get more. Marcia continued to sit glad of the silence for the rest of the journey from London.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Marcia and the other Ravenclaws met Professor Flitwick in the Great Hall and were given their schedules. Marcia skimmed her list; Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Charms, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions, and Transfiguration. Marcia nodded, noted that the first lesson of the day was transfiguration with the Gryffindors, and went back to Ravenclaw tower with her friend, Julie, to collect the proper items.

On the way, Julie confronted Marcia, even stopping her in the dorm with a hand on her friend's arm, and spoke softly so the other girls wouldn't hear. "Is everything okay? I didn't see you on the train or at the feast last night."

Marcia knew she'd gone too far. While she had always been a bit of a loner, she seldom neglected her friends. She gave a non-committal shrug. "Yeah. I just got some news over the summer. Everything's fine, but…" She picked up her book and put it in her bag. "I just need some space." She wished that some door might open in her head and allow her the space of mind to allow Julie to come and tell her everything she wanted to and not go stir crazy, but Marcia doubted it would. So, she left it at that and turned to the stairs. "Come on, McGonigal cares about being punctual."

By the time the girls arrived in the transfiguration classroom, most of the other students, including the Gryffindors, had already settled down, leaving Julie and Marcia to split up and take desks a few apart from one another. This suited Marcia just as well. No sooner had the two taken their seats, when the professor stood up and began the lecture.

"Good morning, students, and welcome to fifth year transfiguration. I was pleased to see many high marks on last year's examinations, and I am optimistic that, with some dutiful effort, the lot of you might earn your O.W.L.s this year. We are going to move quickly, and through many difficult subjects including the basics of human transfiguration—" There came a loud whoop from the back of the room. Marcia turned to see as two dark haired boys high fived one another. "Potter, Black, settle down." A ginger girl—Lily?—caught Marcia's eye and gave her a look as if to say ' _idiots, right?'_ Marcia offered half a nod. "Therefore, diligence outside of the classroom will be essential to success in this class. If you find you're not keeping up with the work, my office hours are marked on the syllabus." McGonigal flicked her wand and a score of neatly stapled syllabi flew across the room to each student. Marcia began to ignore McGonigal's words as she looked through the assignments for the rest of the year. She glanced down at the book in her bag. She'd already looked through it for any information it might have on Anthropomorphs, but though they were mentioned in passing, there was no entry on them.

 _A barn owl,_ she reflected. _I'm just a barn owl in a witch's skin._ The thought came more clearly now, and stifled her thoughts for the rest of the lesson. When the end came, Marcia reviewed her nearly blank page of notes and had to blink several times when she thought she heard the professor say her name. The words came to her almost like a memory, a ghost of a set of instructions. "Miss Greene, I would like to see you for a moment."

Julie, who was half way to Marcia's desk, waved and changed directions to the door. Marcia had a feeling Julie would wait outside the door. Marcia stood, put her things away, and walked up to McGonigal's desk. "Yes, professor?"

"Miss Greene, I received a letter from your parents over the summer. From the sound of it, they had a very important conversation with you?"

Marcia nodded, then added, "Yes, professor."

McGonigal looked relieved. "And how are you taking the news?"

Marcia felt the inclination to suppress a reaction, but by the time it came to do so, she hadn't any urge to do anything, from grimace to laugh or anything in between. She replied only, "Alright, I suppose."

McGonigal didn't seem to care one way or the other. "God. Then you know why it is important that we proceed with a little caution this coming year. You see, while many of the spells we will practice this year are simple and harmless, there are a rare few which are meant for human use only."

Marcia frowned. "With all due respect, Professor, I have lived like this all my life. I doubt, at this point, I'm any different from an Animagus."

Professor McGonigal tapped a pile of papers with her wand so they all lined up neatly. "Miss Greene, this is extraordinary what you are trying to deal with, but I assure you that there are characteristics and principles at the core of your makeup which are different from someone who was born human." She hesitated, then said, "Miss Greene, if it would make things easier on you, or if you have any curiosity into the matter, I can tutor you in your rather unique condition. I, myself, am an Animagus and I can help you get in touch with that side of yourself."

Marcia's face burned red. She felt furious and embarrassed, and wished McGonigal hadn't said anything. "Thank you very much, Professor," she stammered out, "but I don't think I want to do that." She waited a second or two before saying, "Is that all, Professor?"

"Yes, that will be all," replied McGonigal, and with that, Marcia left the room and found that Julie had not, in fact, waited at the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Mornings quickly became Marcia's least favorite part of the day, as students received their packages from home, all delivered by owl. Owls; how had her parents, Marcia wondered, come to figure an owl would make a good daughter? And if they had left her as she was, would she have just grown up to send packages hither and thither for witches? It was all quite stupid, and she grew to dislike their greasy wings and their creepy necks and their bulging eyes that never moved. Their attention was too solid and their voices too close to human as they asked, "Hoo? Hoo?" They might know, Marcia realized one morning, and after that, she stopped taking breakfast altogether, favoring to leave a roll or two from supper the night before in her bag for a quick breakfast while walking to class.

It was weeks, therefore, before Marcia first heard the owls' voices.

Under ordinary circumstances, Melly, Julia's owl, lived in the owlery with the others, but a fortnight into school, the bird had managed to hurt its foot in a heavy package from home and Julia brought it to the hospital wing, then into the dormitory. One evening as the two girls studied, Melly perched, favoring one leg, on Julia's chair, and stared openly at Marcia, even as Julia tousled her feathers and let the bird's wings.

Marcia was half way through a potions essay on "which spices—useful for disguising the purpose of a potion—could react with the active ingredients of a potion, and why," when she heard a gentle voice, " _Oh yes, oh yes, right there."_ Marcia looked skeptically up from her work to her friend. Though it had come from Julia's direction, the voice hadn't been hers. She looked back down. _"Oh, stop it. I'm hungry and want to go out, just let me…oh that's good."_

"Sorry, did you say something?" She put down her quill and looked expectantly at Julia.

But Julia, looking up from her book of runes, shook her head. "No."

"Funny," Marcia continued, "I thought I heard someone." She looked around herself and saw that most of the students had gone already to bed, and only a few were still awake and studying, and they were all involved in their own work.

"I didn't. Just Melly hooting." Julia stroked her owl's head and down her silky feathers. "Smelly Melly, are you feeling better?" She kissed her bird's head and turned back to her book.

As Marcia watched, Melly continued to debate whether to go out or stay and be petted, and Julia continued to hear nothing. That night, long after Melly had gone out to hunt, Marcia lay awake in bed, staring at the dark ceiling. There was no denying it, then. She was, at her core, an owl. Simply an owl, and the appearance she wore was just that. Marcia held her hand up and flexed her fingers in the dark. It seemed so odd to her that the skin she'd worn for this long wasn't her own, but a charm placed on her by a wizard and a witch whom she had grown to love as her parents. Marcia turned over in bed, knowing what she had to do.


	4. Chapter 4

Marcia didn't wait until her next transfiguration lesson to find Professor McGonigal. Two days later, during the office hours McGonigal kept, Marcia sought her council. She knocked on the door, allowing the pressure of her knuckles to pry it open so she could see the professor inside. When McGonigal looked up and saw who was standing there, she put down the paper she was grading and waved Marcia in. "Miss Greene. I doubt you have a question about the lesson this week, so am I correct in assuming you have a question about being an Anthropomorph?"

The word, now that Marcia had accepted that it applied to her, carried a new, sinister weight; anthrax, arthropod. She nodded, then spoke up, "I heard an owl speak last night."

Professor McGonigal looked inquiringly at her. "Was that your first form? An owl?"

This surprised Marcia. "You didn't know?" She had been sure her parents had spared no detail when telling the transfiguration professor about their daughter's condition.

"Your parents were as discreet as they could be, considering what they had to tell me, for your own safety, given the studies fifth years take." McGonigal now gave Marcia her full attention. "And I will not ask you to reveal more to me than you are comfortable with. I understand that this is all very difficult to accept."

Marcia nodded, then shook her head. "It's getting easier, Professor." Not easy, but easier.

"Good. Good," she repeated. "We will move at whatever pace you're comfortable. In the meantime, I will give you some reading on the subject." The tall witch stood and turned to a bookshelf which stood by her desk, across from her fireplace. She selected two volumes and handed them to Marcia.

Marcia took them and looked down at _Anthropomorphic Personification_ and _Walking with Wizards._ She frowned. "There was nothing on Anthropomorphs in the textbook. I looked."

"It is an older, and more obscure topic, to be sure. I was surprised to learn that any parent would still option to do it today, but that is not for me to judge." She pointed at the first volume. "This one is a memoir, which may help you work through the many questions which I'm sure you may have. The other is more instructional."

Marcia hid her books well within her bag before she exited the office. She wasn't ready for anyone, not even Julie, to know what she was.


	5. Chapter 5

It was Friday before Marcia dared to really look at the books. All week, they had provided an extra weight in her bag, and while she was glad to have access to the information, it seemed too dangerous, too scary to actually read. With the rest of her work out of the way, and Julie practicing Quidditch down at the field, Marcia had finally run out of excuses. She settled into a table at the library and cracked open _Andromorphic Personification._ After a few pages, it was clear that the witch who wrote it, originally a terrier, had chosen to become human and had done so knowing what she was getting into when she'd chosen a human life.

Marcia put her book down and stared out the window at the quidditch pitch. She wasn't sure she would have chosen a human life if she had been given the option. She wasn't sure of much of anything. It was all a bit too complicated, and unfair that she had the burden of it when her peers did not. She was startled from her thoughts when a parchment airplane landed on her table. It unfolded and read; _Extra credit for McG?_

Marcia looked around and saw just one other student in the room. He was wearing a Griffindor tie. She wrote back, _You're the one with the annoying friends?_ The two of them made a point of disrupting every lesson. She tapped the note with her wand and sent it in airplane form back to the Griffindor. She pretended to read her book while awaiting a response.

 _They take a little getting used to. And ignoring. By now I tune them out like the refrigerator._

 _You're muggle-born then?_

 _On my mum's side. Your folks are both magical?_

 _Very._ Marcia paused and thought back to his first question. _Yes. She let me borrow a couple of books on Anthropomorphism._

 _Is it interesting?_

Marcia flipped through the pages. It probably was, though it wasn't holding her attention. _You're welcome to borrow them when I'm done._ Setting herself a little deadline would at least have her go through them faster. _In a week?_

 _Much appreciated. I don't believe we've ever spoken. My name is Remus Lupin. I believe you're Marcia Green, am I correct?_

 _Greene._ She wished she was more in the mood to meet someone new. As it was, Marcia had a hard time imagining that even her old friends would want her around for long if they knew the truth.


	6. Chapter 6

A week came and went, and Marcia didn't finish the book. She got about half way through before realizing that it didn't hold her interest. Wendolyn Wilde had, simply, too different an outlook on the experience for her words to feel meaningful to Marcia. She had, in the end, decided to hand it over to Lupin when she saw him next. The second book, _Walking with Wizards,_ offered a little more insight into the way some Anthropomorphs chose to live with one foot in each world, and how some more mature Anthropomorphs could utilize their abilities like Animagi or Parslemouths.

When she arrived in the library that Friday, she saw Remus Lupin sitting at her table by the window, across from her usual chair. Clearly, he wanted to sit with her. She walked over and put her bag down on the table. The book he was reading wasn't academic, but rather a novel, though she herself hadn't read _Nighthawk._ "Hi." She sat down and pulled forth the two books on Anthropomorphs. "As promised." She handed him the one on which she had given up.

"Hey, thanks." He flipped through it and opened it up. The book was so old it no longer made any creaking as it did so. "What did you think of it?"

Marcia clicked her teeth as she thought of exactly how to phrase it. "It was all right. Not without its charm. Didn't finish, but that doesn't necessarily reflect on the book." When one read for answers, it was hard to enjoy another's winding narrative. She took out her other book, deciding that their conversation was now over.

"Two books on the same subject," he observed.

"Hmm," she cooed and refocused on the book in front of her, then turned a page, then another, then looked up. Remus was looking out the window. Today, there were scarlet robes on the quidditch pitch, as Gryffindor practiced. "See someone you know?"

"James is seeker."

"Why not watch from the stands?"

"I've seen enough of his practices, and there'll be more. I was more interested in this," he gestured to the book.

"Can…can I ask why?" She waited quietly as he turned back to the book and brushed his long fingers against the page.

He didn't, after a moment, seem to have heard her, and Marcia wondered if she should repeat herself when he said, "I think there's a lot we could learn from this side of magic."

Marcia raised an eyebrow, not sure of what that meant. 'This side of magic?' "Funny, isn't it? How some animals want to be human and some humans want to be animals."

"Humanity is precious," Remus answered, so fast it caught Marica off guard.

"What, even for animals?" she pressed.

"I would say, especially for animals." He had grown grave, Marcia noticed. He no longer spoke with the easy curiosity he had when he had spoken about the book or about quidditch.

Marcia felt uneasy, and wondered if Remus were a legilimens. The words seemed addressed directly to her thoughts. She had, had she not, begun to hold her own humanity closer since realizing how tenuous it felt? Or, if he wasn't a legilimens, then perhaps, "You're one, too, aren't you?" She cracked a smile—the first one she'd ever managed when focusing too hard on these matters.

"Too?" He looked surprised, but Marcia held her shy smile, trying to encourage him to say more. "Then you're…that's why you're reading up on them?" Marcia nodded. "Then you know very well just how precious it is to be human." He picked up the book and moved his hand from the page.

Now, Marcia was intrigued. "What were you—if you don't mind my asking?"

Remus paused—his eyes frozen on the page-so long before looking up from the book that she thought perhaps she had asked a taboo question. Then he looked up, his golden eyes on Marcia's, so intense she couldn't look away, and he even scared her. "I was a wolf," he said.

"I was—they tell me I was an owl." Her voice was soft. She looked down, then back up with another question on her lips. "Do you…have you ever gone back into that form?" There was nobody else she knew who could answer such a question.

"Yes," he said, simply.

Marcia's heart fluttered. He was giving her more answers than she could glean from McGonigal's books. "And what is it like? After having lived as a human so long?" She felt breathless.

"Excruciating," he said, quite shortly and simply. He closed the book, then. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it's nothing like being an Animagus." Remus stood and turned away. Marcia wanted to say something else, but only caught the red tint of an ear as he walked off. She frowned, then picked up her book and went back to the common room. The book remained unopened until the next Transfiguration class.


	7. Chapter 7

Marcia left the library hours later, having thought over what Remus Lupin had told her over and over, and still hadn't come to any definite conclusions on what she was to do. On one hand, she had just told someone who and what she was. That sort of disclosure came with the expectation, she imagined, to come forth and act the part. On the other hand, he had just told her that the process was unbearably unpleasant. If she had been sure she didn't want to get in touch with the owl inside of her before, this new information didn't change things.

And so, rather than reading or practicing for her lessons, Marcia sat and thought herself in circles. It wasn't until that evening, after leaving Great Hall, that Marcia saw anyone she had a mind to talk to. Julia had changed from her school uniform into a fashionable ensemble of cropped shirt and vest and a pair of bell bottom slacks and was heading out of Ravenclaw tower. "Marcia!" she exclaimed.

"Jules?"

A smile broadened Julia's face. "Oh, I'm so glad I ran into you. I was hoping you might come along before we went to the Three Broomsticks."

It was only then that Marcia saw that Julia wasn't alone. Jemma, a girl who had once been as thick with the other two as any three witches could be, stood just behand Julia.

"Hi, Marcia. Haven't seen much of you this term."

With her head still spinning with new information, Marcia put her hand to her temple and was about to say she was too tired, but Julia took her wrist and winked. "Come on, silly goose. We'll wait."

With that, Marcia found herself with no choice but to change and return to walk with her friends down to Hogsmead. The stores were alive with what was probably the last warm day of summer, and several older students had made good on their Friday evening to come down for a pint of butterbeer and a good time. Julia and Jemma walked arm in arm, but though Jemma had offered her other arm to Marcia, Marcia walked separately. The two chatted, and Marcia only listened with half an ear to their gossip.

They were half way to the Three Broomsticks when Marcia, who had by now fallen a little behind her friends, caught a glimpse of a familiar Griffindor. Remus was standing outside Honeydukes with a bag of chocolates. His back was turned, and he gestured at a shorter, blonde boy. Then, he stepped back in and Marcia lost sight of him as the door closed. When she turned to rejoin her friends, they had stopped walking and were facing her.

"Who was that?" asked Julia. There was a tone in her voice that indicated what she thought that boy might be. She had, it seemed, developed a flirtatious side of her that hadn't existed before the last summer. Marcia wasn't sure what she thought of it, yet.

She caught up with them and continued towards the front door, and held it for her friends. "Nothing, just someone I met in the library." Somebody like her. The thought of it was comforting, though he'd offered her no words of comfort, she'd realize later when she reflected on the encounter.

Julia let go of Jemma and went through, and led the three to some seats at the crowded bar. Marcia found herself standing until a wizard took it upon himself to move his cloak from the stool next to him. They each ordered a butterbeer, and Jemma and Julia turned in on one another so that Marcia would have had to have leaned in and forced her way into the conversation to be a part. Right now, she didn't have the energy. Instead, she took her butterbeer and turned around in her seat so she could look out the windows and watch the streets.

It all felt so natural and normal to her, she realized. Being human, drinking butterbeer, wearing heeled boots and hoop earrings. The news her parents had given her last summer had sounded so alarming because it didn't fit. It didn't feel true. She resigned herself, then, sipping her butterbeer with her friends, that what didn't bother her couldn't hurt her and what didn't hurt her couldn't bother her. That, she settled on with a touch of pride, was a riddle worthy of any sphynx.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marcia noticed Jemma, then. She had gotten up from her seat at the bar opposite Julia, and had struck up conversation with a young man, either an older student or someone who had recently graduated. She sighed and slumped lower in her seat.

"Hey, you look down." Without Jemma to talk to, Julia had refocused her attention back to Marcia. "What's up?" She nudged Marcia's arm, prompting the her to straighten and turn back around, placing her nearly empty cup on the bar.

Marcia shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing, really."

"You've seemed a little down since summer ended. Spending a lot of time in the library." She continued to stroke Marcia's arm.

"I happen to like the library."

"And we haven't really chatted about it."

"About what?" Marcia suddenly thought back into their last conversations, trying to find if she had neglected Julia, but came up short.

"About whatever it is that has you off in a corner most evenings."

Marcia sighed and tipped up the dregs of her butterbeer.

"Or don't tell me." Julia's voice had an edge to it now. "Look, I get it if you're having a rough time with something, but I want you to feel better and I want to help if I can, so can you please talk about it?" She was practically begging, and Julia felt ashamed to have kept it from her friend for so long.

She pushed her glass away from her and angled herself so she could face Julia. "Just some bad news from my folks this summer. Haven't been speaking with them very much since." Julia waited as Marcia mouthed a few false starts, then came out with, "They told me I'm adopted."

Julia's jaw dropped. She sputtered and scoffed. "You mean you didn't know?" Marcia stared and she felt her stomach fall out of her body, along with quite a bit of butterbeer she'd just consumed. "I mean, I didn't know for certain, but I had a feeling. You don't look like either of them." Julia continued staring. "You mean you really didn't know?"

Marcia shook her head.

"And you didn't…no wonder you've been in a mood. I thought you were still…" Julia glanced around at where Jemma was starting to sit close with that young wizard. "You know."

Marcia did. She hadn't known, however, that Julia had known about her and Jemma. Marcia had known, she thought as she looked back at their affair, that it wouldn't last with Jemma. She had known, and yet their fourteen year old brains were too addled to know any better. Well, Marcia's had been. Jemma seemed to have sorted herself out. Across the room, Jemma started to kiss the boy. "No, of course not," she said, quickly looking away. "Listen, would you mind if we took this outside? I'm sure someone would like our seats, and truth be told, I wasn't feeling too well when we left the castle." She tilted her head over at Jemma. "Besides, I think we've lost her."

"Of course." The two witches paid for their drinks and left the pub. They didn't walk directly back to the castle, but took the long way so they would have plenty of time to chat. After the noise inside died away a bit, Julia asked, "So, how do you feel about it?"

Marcia kicked a pebble down the road. "Honestly?" Julia smiled. "I feel a little betrayed. I feel like they should have told me sooner or not at all. One or the other." And then the feelings started to pour out. "Do you have any idea what it's like to know who you are one day and have that taken away from you the next? How that feels?"

"Of course I do. I was muggle-born."

In the heat of the moment, Marcia had forgotten that fact. "Well, that's about the size of it, then," she concluded. "I feel like I was lied to about myself and now I'm…just trying to figure stuff out with me and with them."

"I get it." Julia took Marcia's hand, and this time she allowed the contact.

Marcia wasn't sure if Julia did get it, but she liked to think she did, at least with this half. She squeezed Julia's hand back. The knot that had managed to work itself up loosened, and Marcia breathed a deep breath, and pushed her shoulders back. "Feels good to say it out loud."

"Good." Julia swung their arms as they walked a little farther. "You've been pretty off lately. It'll be nice to have you back."

Marcia turned to her and gave her an apologetic smile. "Have I really been that bad?"

"Yes, but I forgive you if you start spending more time with me…and if you maybe tell me what happened last year with Jemma. I'm dying to know." She squeezed Marcia's hand, sending a shiver of worry down Marcia's spine, until she realized that Julia was only talking about juicy gossip—she didn't know. She wouldn't want to know, probably.

The road came to an end. Marcia made to turn around, but Julia stayed standing still. She pointed out to a hill with a house on top. "You see that house over there?"

Marcia turned around, and stepped back. It was the haunted cottage, the shrieking shack, the site of a hundred grizzly tales which had scared her as a third year and still left her feeling uneasy. "Yeah."

"I heard a new story from Ernest." Julia grinned wickedly. She was going to tell it, Marcia realized, just to scare her. "It goes like this. Once upon a time, this land was covered with small farms and monasteries. All around us, they worked the land and every so often, the Vikings would come. One was worst of all, named Vlad the Grotesque." Julia started to speak with a creepy intonation to her voice. "He came up in his river boat and ordered his men and women—you know they had women warriors?—and they would shake down every farmer and they stormed the nunnery and killed every last devotee." Julia paused. "Then, when he was a rich old Viking, he settled down right here. Even when he died, his spirit still haunts the treasure, and he keeps the warriors as an army of infiri, all ready to strike if someone goes inside. Night after night, they scream their pain at being so long bound to this world."

Julia finished on a whisper, and Marcia thought she could hear the faint calling of the house beyond. As the sun set, the dark windows grew darker, and the shingles seemed to slope farther down in a menacing, makeshift sort of way. She pulled at Julia's hand, but Julia stayed put, grinning tauntingly at Marcia's discomfort. Then, she realized—the building couldn't be more than a hundred years old. "You twit!"

Julia laughed, even as Marcia shook her their hands free of one another and followed Marcia back down the path. Marcia wrapped her poncho around herself and shivered at the thought of it. "You totally believed me, just for a second there!"

"Git, getoff me."

"I'm glad you're back." Julia took Marcia's arm and prompted, "So. You were going to tell me about Jemma."

Marcia scoffed. "I don't think I owe you anything after that." However, there wasn't a bit of unkindness in her words. Julia had listened, and Julia had understood. That was enough.


	8. Chapter 8

There was plenty of mail to sort through over the weekend. It was the natural result, of course, of avoiding both her parents, who sent Marcia the bulk of her letters, and owls, who carried the mail. For weeks now, the house elves had dutifully collected her mail and left it on her bed for her, which she had promptly shut in her bedside table without a second glance. On Sunday, she gave them that second glance.

1 September 1975

Marcia, Sweetie,

I know you wouldn't let us say it on the platform, but I want you to know that your father and I are very proud of you and we think you're going to have your best year yet. Study hard and we know you'll do well on your mid-year exams and we can't wait to see you home for Christmas. Say 'hi' to Julia and Jemma for us.

X,

Mum

4 September 1975

Marcia,

Your mother's getting nervous that you haven't replied to her letter. She's taking it personally and rather hard. I know you're upset, and you have every right to be.

What can I do to make this up to you? Would you like Tigger to come live with you? You're still allowed to have pets, isn't that right?

You're in our thoughts,

Dad

Marcia read that one over a few times. Neither of her parents were particularly loquacious correspondents, but they got their point across. Marcia wondered if she had been a little too harsh on them, and then if it would be considered extortion to bring the family pet to school. She picked up the next letter.

15 September 1975

Sweetie,

I sent you some cauldron cakes I made. Did you get them alright?

X

Mum

Marcia remembered them, all right. She'd been so upset, still, that she'd ended up putting them out for the other Ravenclaws and eating none for herself. The empty plate was in her luggage for when she went home.

23 September 1975

Marcia,

I hope you don't mind, but we wrote to Professor Flitwick to see if you were all right. He said your grades were good, but you were distracted and seemed quieter than before—

Marcia bunched the parchment into a ball and hugged her knees to her chest. They were checking up on her. That was humiliating. She wondered if they'd told Flitwick like they'd told McGonigal. She hoped they hadn't gone into the details, and had only come off as the slightly odd muggle-born couple they could sometimes be. Marcia pulled out blank parchment and wrote a quick note to her mum and dad. It seemed the only way to keep them at bay.

28 September 1975

Dearest Mum and Dad,

Thank you for the care and the cauldron cakes and the checking in on me. It's greatly appreciated.

Marcia.

She scrapped it a few times, but kept coming up with the same note with more or less bitter sarcasm written in each line. Figuring that this draft went down the middle-of-the-road, she took it to the owlry.


End file.
